Sired to the alpha

9

The soft glow of the TV lit up the darkened living room, the only sound the low hum of dialogue from the movie. I’d chosen something light—a romantic comedy that Josh had recommended—but I couldn’t tell you what was happening on screen.

Ryker sat beside me on the couch, his arm draped casually along the backrest. It wasn’t touching me, not exactly, but the heat of his presence was impossible to ignore. Every small shift, every glance he sent my way, sent my heart racing.

“You’re not even watching,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension.

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “I could say the same about you.”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Maybe because I find the company more interesting than the movie.”

“Smooth,” I said, rolling my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the weight of unspoken words settling between us. My chest felt tight, the air around us charged with something I couldn’t quite name.

The movie played on, forgotten, as Ryker shifted closer. His knee brushed against mine, and I felt my breath hitch.

“You’re tense,” he murmured, his voice low.

“Maybe because you’re staring at me,” I shot back, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. “Can you blame me?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat as he reached out, his fingers brushing against a strand of hair that had fallen into my face.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply, his eyes locking onto mine.

My heart skipped a beat, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear.

“Ryker…” I started, but I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

He didn’t give me a chance to figure it out. In one smooth motion, he slid an arm under my legs and the other around my back, lifting me effortlessly off the couch.

“Wait—what are you doing?” I asked, my voice shaky.

He didn’t answer, his expression unreadable as he carried me into the next room. The cool air hit my skin as we entered the game room, and I realized with a jolt that he was heading straight for the pool table.

“Ryker,” I said again, my voice barely above a whisper.

He set me down gently on the edge of the table, his hands lingering on my waist. The wood was cool beneath me, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

“You’re nervous,” he said, his voice soft but commanding.

“No, I’m not,” I lied, my cheeks burning.

He smirked, leaning in closer until our faces were mere inches apart. “You’re a terrible liar, Evangeline.”

Before I could respond, his lips brushed against mine—soft at first, testing, but quickly growing more insistent. My hands found their way to his chest, and I felt the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips.

The world seemed to blur, everything else fading away as his hands slid up my sides, his touch igniting a fire that burned through every nerve in my body.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against my lips, his voice rough.

I shook my head, my breath hitching. “Don’t.”

His eyes darkened, and the tension that had been building between us finally snapped.

As Ryker lifts me effortlessly onto the pool table, I feel the weight of his body pressing against mine. His hands are strong, steady, but there’s an undeniable intensity in the way he holds me. My heart races, and for a split second, I’m caught in the sheer force of his presence—everything about him feels overwhelming. His eyes lock onto mine, deep and unreadable, and I can’t tear my gaze away. I swallow hard, my breath hitching, as the space between us becomes almost painfully small.

I feel the heat radiating off him, his chest brushing against me as I settle on the table. The room seems to shrink around us, and all of a sudden, it’s just him and me—nothing else matters. I’m acutely aware of every inch of his body against mine, the way his warmth seeps into me, making everything feel alive.

His hand slides along my side, his fingers grazing the curve of my waist, and it sends an electric shock through me. I can’t help but shiver, my skin tingling beneath his touch. My breath catches in my throat, and before I know what’s happening, my lips are on his, urgent and hungry. The kiss is deep, fierce, full of something raw, something I can’t quite name. His mouth moves against mine with a possessiveness that steals the air from my lungs, and I kiss him back with equal intensity, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.

I can feel the muscles in his chest shift as I run my hands up his body, the heat of him seeping into my fingertips. Every inch of his skin against mine is like fire, and I respond instinctively, arching my back slightly, pressing myself closer to him. His hands move to my back, pulling me toward him with a force that has me gasping against his mouth.

The kiss deepens, his lips tracing the line of my jaw before finding my neck. He exhales against my skin, sending a rush of warmth through me. I shudder, my fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer. His hands are on me now, exploring, moving with a kind of desperation I can’t ignore. I lean into him, feeling the tension between us crackling like static, thick and undeniable. My body responds before my mind can catch up—there’s no reasoning in this moment, no holding back. Just the pulse of desire, the electric connection between us that feels like it could consume everything.

The world outside this room feels distant, irrelevant. The way he touches me, the way he looks at me.